Harry Potter and the Heir to Power
by Magic Monk Of Monkey
Summary: Harry finds himself growing more and more powerful after an accident that involves his own magic- staffs, new powers, and whatever else shows up
1. prologue

_Harry Potter and the Heir to Power_

Epilouge

Disclaimer: I own nothing… well all right, maybe the plot, but the rest is all JK Rowling's

A/N:  I'd like to thank the lone reviewer who gave me the lone review I have received, so here it is… 'thanks'. (heehee- that sounds kinda' strange, huh?)

The wind blew through the moon-lit grass that grew five feet tall, causing a short, balding man with beady eyes and a rat-like face to shiver in the cold.  The cold, however, could have disappeared completely, and become replaced with the heat of hell, and the man would still be shivering. No, he was not shivering from the cold- he was shaking uncontrollably from fear. Fear of what stood behind him, fear of the pain he knew was coming, fear of the very fact that if he went on living, he would be forced to live in complete control of the 'man' that stood behind him. He knew, however, that before he could escape from this man, he would either have to suffer pain that was unrivaled by anything, have his soul sucked out from his very being, or both. He chose to work as the equivalent of a slave, and accept the pain to come, instead of have something worse than a slow, painful death engulf him.

"_You stupid little…",_ came the voice from behind the slave, as the owner of the voice proceeded to step forward, and shove the man over his foot.

"_I do not believe that we will ever get a chance to do what we could have, and the fault lies in a little _mistake_ that I should have taken care of earlier",_ the 'man' seemed to feel no remorse towards kicking the man on the ground before him as he emphasized the word mistake.

"_Do you happen to _know_ what the mistake _was?", again the savage kick with the emphasis. He paused as he heard the man on the ground whimper, and a slightly foul, satisfied smile that could have very well turn the world into a barren wasteland of ashes crept across his face. The Slave was too afraid. Too afraid of the evil red eyes that glinted maliciously from above the slit-like nostrils that could easily be compared to those of a snake.

"_YOU.", _The single word rang through the night, bouncing through the surrounding scenery.

_"Enough games. Now the fun begins. My fun.",_ the hooded figure that had been speaking bent into his clothing and produced a long, thin piece of wood. He pointed it towards the Slave and laughed a high, cold laugh that petrified the Slave before him, and appeared to be relishing the moment as if he was about to become the richest man alive.

_"_Crucio_", _came the muttered word from the 'man' that was holding the stick. The screams of the Slave reverberated through the world, which curiously began to fade. In its place was the image of a handsome, generous looking fifteen year old boy surrounded by darkness. He looked around and smiled at something.

_"No hard feelings then?", _came his voice. Another voice entered as the boy glanced behind him, a look of surprise and shock on his face.

_"Avada Kedavra", _The boy was suddenly lying on his back in a lightly grassed area, wearing the same look as before, except without any sign of life in it. No _real_ emotions could be seen behind his lifeless mask. It was too much. It was _far_ too much. And he was far too young.

May Cedric Diggory rest in peace

                                                                        *************************

He awoke, shivering from the cold sweat that covered his street-lamp-lit body. He let out a small moan, followed by a light sob, then he turned on his side and began to shake uncontrollably, his tears coming forth with such ferociousness that it would scare a lion. The bed trembled slightly as he shook, but made no noise, for which he would have been grateful, had he not been so buried within his own pains. In fact, he was feeling great pain from a lighting bolt shaped scar on his forehead , but he didn't seem to care. The only thing he appeared to care about at the moment was the image of the dead teenager.

'It's all my fault', he thought 'I should have stopped him from being killed. I should have stepped in front of the curse and stopped him from dying. Maybe I should end it all… then everyone I love wouldn't have to suffer. It's not worth it.'

'But it _is_ worth it', came another stronger voice, one that sounded more logical and reasonable than the first. 'Its not your fault, and Cedric wouldn't have wanted you to worry about it. There was nothing you could do to stop it. And, suicide is only the easy way out… remember what Dumbledore said- "what's right isn't always what's easy".'

With that thought in his head, Harry began to recall the moments when people had shown that they loved him. He remembered his first year, when his best friend, Hermione Granger, had solved the Potions barrier to the sorcerer's stone, and how she had told him to be careful, out of love more than anything else. He remembered in his third year, how Sirius, his godfather,  had convinced him that he was innocent of the crime he had been convicted for, and had had to live under circumstances that would make any man go insane, and had stayed sane for his sake. He remembered that last year, he would have been standing solo against his entire school had it not been for Hermione, who had believed what everyone thought a lie without a single hesitation. He remembered above all, however, that his other best friend, Ron Weasley, had been, not just a friend, but a brother as well, and had shown him his family, whom had accepted him like one of their own. They were almost like the family he had never had.

He suddenly thought furiously to himself that he would never have thought about suicide, had it not been for the man that everyone who was focused on the side of Light despised. Voldemort.

The man ripped friendships apart and families would find relatives dead, or worse, joining this horrible evil. Voldemort had been terrorizing everyone, wreaking havoc in the world, and had been after a lone goal. He was thwarted, however, by a baby of about one, who had rebounded his attack, and had gotten away with nothing more than a lighting shaped scar. Harry Potter had sent Voldemort into a state of being incredibly close to death, but he had survived as a mere spirit, entering the bodies of any animals he came across. Last year, when the Cedric had been killed, Voldemort had regained his body, with the forced help of Harry Potter.

After Voldemort had regained his body, he had dueled with Harry, something that nobody had ever survived from. Harry, however, had somehow escaped from the Dark Lord's grasp, and returned to his school with the horrible memory of the dead teenager that he had brought back as a last favor to the boy. He had landed amidst screams and cries, a confusing scene of terror where everyone was running about, trying to find out what had happened, many in tears.

The truth about Lord Voldemort was that he was a Dark Wizard, and Harry himself had been, for four years, attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Because of this, his aunt and uncle despised him and his parents, whom were both witches and wizards, and they despised the fact that they had been forced to take care of Harry just after he his parents had been killed. They detested the fact that they were related to such a 'freak'.

Harry got up, and went to look out the window, rubbing his red eyes. It was the day after he had arrived at number four, Privet Drive, and he had already been forced to do more chores than his fat cousin Dudley had ever done in his life. This thought gave Harry an idea.

He sprang over to his desk and grabbed a roll of parchment and a quill, beginning to write a note to the headmaster at his school.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

He paused for a moment to suck on the end of his quill and ponder how to put his request into formal words.

_I would greatly appreciate it if I could receive my list containing all the items I must buy for the next school year as soon as possible. I would like to go to Diagon Alley sooner than usual and buy all of my books so that I may study hard for the following year._

He wondered if he should put in the note about the pain in his scar and the dream, but realized that it was of no use to anyone, so he concluded the letter.

_Thank you,_

_Harry Potter_

He folded the parchment into a letter, wrote _professor Dumbledore_ on the front of it, and prodded Hedwig, his owl, awake. She let out a light hoot at being awakened and opened one eye. When she saw that Harry was holding a letter, she stuck out her right leg and allowed him to tie the letter to it.

"Bring it to professor Dumbledor, and be careful on the way, all right?" 

She nibbled his ear in response and took off through the window. Harry watched her go until he could no longer see her, than he glanced at the clock to find that it was three in the morning. He flopped back down onto the bed, and tried to sleep, but found that he couldn't. Instead, he thought up a plan that he would take into action if his letter was answered in the affirmative.

He would catch a bus to London, and enter into Diagon Alley. He would find all the things on the list, but buy some extra spell books that contained curses and useful spells. He would then return to Privet Drive, in Surrey, and study hard and focus on his studies during the night, and do all the manual labor during the day, starting the morning off with stretches and exercise. He was going to need to become as strong as he could if he was going to live up to the name he was given in youth and defeat the evil that gave it to him. 'The-boy-who-lived' was going to either kill Voldemort, or become 'The-boy-who-once-lived-but-then-died-trying'.

Finally, Harry was able to fall asleep with a smile of determination on his face.

                                                                                ***********************

Harry Potter awoke three hours later and looked around his room, hoping to see the snowy white owl he had sent off much earlier that morning, knowing that she wasn't going to have returned so soon. He decided that he would begin to put his plan into action, and he began to stretch. 

Sitting down on the hard, wooden ground, Harry stretched both legs in front of him and pushed his hands forwards, trying to touch his toes. He was disappointed as he found that he could barely get to his ankles without feeling a sharp pain bounce around in his legs. He pushed for what felt like an eternity, but was only about two minutes, when he bent forwards onto his hands and toes, and did ten pushups, on his knuckles. He stopped for about ten seconds, then did ten more, and so on until he reached one hundred.

He jumped up, feeling a slight pain in his arms, and stealthily crept out the door. He jumped down the stairs, landing lightly at the bottom, and walked silently to the kitchen, quickly glancing about him to make sure he was alone. He crept over to the fridge, and opened it, surveying its contents and trying to find something he could sneak upstairs to his room so that he would not die of starvation when his Aunt Petunia tried to enforce the diet for Dudley onto the entire household.

The sound of a door creaking open drifted down the stairs. Harry swiftly grabbed a small tomato and hid it in his pocket, stepping noiselessly to the front door. A few steps could be heard hitting the stairs, and a long-necked lady with a bony face entered the living room, heading towards the kitchen.

Harry swore under his breath and grabbed the brass door handle, turning it slowly so as not to a make a noise, and trying at the same time to keep out of sight of his aunt. The door clicked softly, and he pulled it open, slowly, leaving the house and staying unnoticed the whole time- his aunt had been bustling about the kitchen, trying to get breakfast ready(an asparagus each, along with a piece of carrot and two small slices of tomato).

The sun was just rising above the rooftops of the identical houses, splashing the road in a sort of golden color. Harry looked up and down the street, and decided that he would go jogging through it, and find out what Surry was like, never having actually been let outside of the house much, unless it was to do all the gardening. He set off to explore, jogging lightly and trying to keep his breathing constant while he examined all the intersections that he passed, memorizing the path he was taking. He jogged for about an hour before he found himself in front of his old baby sitters house. He stopped for a moment, looked up at it, and wiped his sweaty brow. His thoughts began to drift to Mrs. Figg, and how boring she had been, then to his best friends, then to Cho Chang, his school crush, then to Cedric Diggory. Tears began to well up in his eyes.

'No.', He thought 'it's not my fault. Crying won't bring him, or my parents, back. The only thing I can do for all of them now, is to insure that it doesn't happen to anyone else.'

With that thought, he headed back to Number Four, Privet Drive. On arrival, he was met by his Uncle Vernon.

"Where were you, boy? You think that your Aunt Petunia can do all of the house-work by herself, now do you? Well, I'll show you!"

And with that, he proceeded to punch Harry, hard.

                                                                               --------------------------------

A/N: so, was it good, or was it bad? Does it deserve flames, or does it deserve praise? Will you review, or will I stop writing? Should I make the story go one direction, or should I make it go the other? Tell me because I don't have any idea where I'm going to take it….

Thanks again to Two Black Poodles for the review I got when this chapter was but a wee paragraph… I think you should all take her(his) example and review.

Please? 

Oh yes, and now for something kinda' different-

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                                          \    bye  /

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	2. The Word

Harry Potter and the Heir to Power

__

Chapter 2: The Word

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the plot…. The rest is JK's (we all know who that is…if you don't, its JK Rowling)

A/N: thanks to the **_2_** reviewers that gave me reviews for the epilogue- Flaming Aussie and Two Black Poodles

*****************

He awoke, but did not open his eyes yet… they were squeezed tightly shut, as if he was concentrating intently on a small spot in his eyelids that he didn't want to lose sight of. He suddenly slipped out from under the covers, rolling off his bed and landing on the floor just as a sharpened kitchen knife struck itself deep into the mattress where he had been laying only moments before. He quickly flattened himself on the floor as another shining, silver knife swung right through the spot in the air where his head had been, causing him to feel a sudden current of rushing air flow over him. Flipping over onto his back, he bent his knees to his chest, letting his calves stick upwards for a second before he swung them through the air, landing on his feet. Turning his body slightly out of the way and to the right, he kicked diagonally to his left, slapping another flying knife into the opened hand by his side.

The knife, however, began to elongate itself into a beautifully shining sword that seemed to bend the light softly around it, causing it to shimmer slightly, as if in between its owner and itself there was a barrier of swelteringly hot air. Another knife shot suddenly out of the air, and instead of dodging this one, the boy met it straight on, his sword poised vertically in front of him. His muscles flexed for a bit as the knife made contact with his blade. The knife, however, didn't just fall to the ground. It began to fall, but half-way down, it stopped, then flew out of the open door, and down the stairs to the right of it. The sword decreased in size, and once again it was a knife, which proceeded to follow the other one. The two others formed the end of the line, and as the last one disappeared, he opened his eyes.

******************

Harry Potter walked down the stairs to the kitchen, wearing only a pair of jeans over his boxers, his muscular upper body exposed to the world. He smiled a very small smile to himself when he saw that the kitchen knives were all in their place, and started to cook a breakfast consisting of eggs and bacon. The smell soon wafted to the higher floor, and entered the rooms of Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley. Sitting up in his bed with a grunt, Dudley heard his stomach rumbling, a memorial to of the "horrid, horrid dark shadow of evil that should not be given to my poor little Duddikins", as his mother had taken to calling it. It was more commonly known as a diet, and it obviously wasn't taking much effect, as Dudley was still growing much larger. Getting up from his bed with another of his famous grunts, he waddled to the door of his room, his fat shimmering slightly as waves rippled through it.

Harry could hear the stairs creak under the weight of a killer wale, and decided that his cousin Dudley was coming down them and was going to try to _persuade_ him to give him the eggs. He chuckled slightly as he thought about the look that was going to be on Dudley's face when he was completely refused the eggs with a response of 'no', something he hadn't heard of very often, as he was probably the most spoiled living being in all of Britian, if not Europe. 

Sure enough, Dudley's large shadow appeared at the bottom of the stairs, and tried to sneak along to the kitchen with the element of surprise.

'Yeah, as if you could miss him from this close!', Harry thought to himself, suppressing the laughter that over-came him as Dudley 'crept' behind him. He pulled out four plates from a cabinet by his feet, and placed them on the table, along with silver-wear for all of them. He turned back to the stove and flipped the bacon.

"Grab the orange juice and the cucumber from the fridge, Dudley.", Dudley jumped slightly, and Harry could have sworn that the house shook a bit. Dudley turned around, however, and without a word grabbed the items from the fridge, and gave them silently to Harry, who began to cut eight slices of cucumber. He then placed them on one of the plates, and on the rest he distributed the eggs and bacon, making sure to put more on two of the plates than the other.

"Oh, no you don't, Dudley. Your mum wouldn't be very happy if you ate anything other than the diet, now would she?", Harry sprouted as Dudley tried to sit in two (he couldn't fit on one) of the chairs in front of the plates of eggs and bacon.

"I'll just tell her that you told me that I could have what they were having.", Dudley sneered back, not noticing that a handful of spoons had floated in the air behind him, only noticing once they were surrounding him, leaving him no chance of escape. Harry crossed his arms.

"Is that so, Dudley?", He asked, staring at Dudley with narrowed eyes, as if to say "You say yes and you'll find yourself impaled on the end of a spoon. Muahaha."

"N-n-no.", Was the stuttered response. The spoons flew back together neatly, with a few 'clinks', then hovered gently into the drawer that had opened itself for them. Dudley was wide eyed.

"B-b-but your na-not allowed t-to use… it… outsi-si-side of school! Mum and Dad said!", he exclaimed, once he thought it safe to do so. Harry sighed slightly and resigned himself to ignoring Dudley completely, sitting down in front of the plate with the less amount of food, and began to pile it all in. He remembered how he had learned about being able to do magic outside of Hogwarts.

_T/a\T_

He walked into Flourish and Blotts, the bookstore for witches and wizards. On entrance, he pulled from his jeans pocket a list of books he would need for his next school year at Hogwarts, and began to search through the store for the books he would need, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. He soon had almost all of his books, and all that was left was The Standard Book of Spells, Grade Five, and Intermediate Transfiguration. However, when Harry reached up to grab The Standard Book of Spells, a group of books came down with it. Swearing lightly to himself as he picked up the books, one particular one caught his eye, and instead of putting it back up with the others, he put it in his bag with the rest of his school books. 

_And then, once again, when he reached up to grab _Intermediate Transfiguration_, he pulled down three extra books, which landed on his head, foot, and nose. However, when he looked down to his foot and saw the title, he stopped muttering darkly to himself, instead switching to and excited, soft ramble. He snatched the two others from the floor, and glanced at their titles with anxious eyes. Once again, he shoved them all into his bag, and walked swiftly to the clerk, putting the bag on the counter, and letting the clerk mutter the titles of the books to himself as the quill in front of him wrote down the prices._

_"lets see here, _Standard book of Spells, Grade Five_… _Intermediate Transfiguration_…and…_Undetectable Magic-How To Keep From Being Noticed_…_The Magical Martial Arts_…_Wand-less Transfiiguration_…and lastly…_Controlling Time- How To Transfigure Your Seconds Into Days _. Sir, that'll be fifty Galleons, fourteen Sickles, and five Knuts." He said the last part out loud to Harry, who quickly spooned out the money onto the counter, and grabbed the books so that he could rush out-side and read the books._

_Once he had arrived at the Dursley household, he had rushed up the stairs, and begun to read _Undetectable Magic_, practicing what the book said, finding that much of it was the theory sort of things, and that only wand-less magic could go undetected. After he had read that one, he had read the _Wand-less Transfiguration_ book, and found that he could apply the 'undetectable' theories to mostly all of the spells. After that, he had read his normal school books, which then seemed pretty easy, and done his summer homework, which appeared even easier. All of this had taken about three weeks, after which he had spent a week trying to read and understand _Controlling Time_, which had been another magical theory book that involved a certain state of mind to be applied to do what was shown in the book. Afterwards, he had used this method to read the book on the M(agical) M(artial) A(rts) and practice it, which had seemed to him like a year and a few days, but what had actually been about an hour. He had soon mastered all of the books he had bought, and now had a heavily muscled and well-defined body that could fight when it had to, and fight well at that. _

T/a/T 

"BOY! GET Up…" came the cry Vernon Dursley, as it appeared that he had gone to tell Harry to make breakfast (obviously ignorant of the smell of it swimming about the house), and had found that his room was devoid of such a person. He stood there for a moment, looking blankly into the room before he caught a whiff of the bacon, and turned around to head down the stairs to eat his breakfast. He found Dudley munching fearfully on his cucumber and shooting fearful glances at Harry, who was washing his plate in the sink.

When Vernon Dursley swiveled the head that lay on his beefy body to look at Harry, his mouth opened in shock, and his eyes seemed to get smaller in fear from what he saw. He could do nothing but stare as his mind began to search for logical explanations as to how something this _illogical_ could have happened. What he saw was an extremely muscular looking Harry that didn't seem to be hindered by the extra weight of his muscles, by the way he had swiftly stepped his foot to his right to put his plate up to dry. To Vernon, that step looked like a flash.

Harry turned around to see his Uncle Vernon looking at him with his face contorted in a passion of fear. He thought he saw Dudley slip back upstairs, and he heard the sound of a door slamming shut. He had no clue what to do, as he had never had this happen to him before… _especially_ not with Vernon Dursley, the man who had sheltered him on the border-line of abusiveness for years, in hopes that he would squash the magic from his nephew by treating him extremely horribly. His plan hadn't worked.

"H-how… W-what…" Vernon took a second to compose himself. "BOY! My breakfast is cold!"

Harry stood looking in confusion at his uncle.

"Okay…?", was his response.

"Well? HEAT IT UP!" Harry looked at the plate of food, then his red-faced uncle, then the food again. A smile slowly cracked his lips as he suddenly had a thought.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." He said, moving his hand towards the plate. Instead of grabbing it, however, he put his hand just over it, and spread his fingers out so that they were parallel to the ground.

"_Fervefacio_." He mumbled to himself, causing the plate to suddenly emit a heat that caused the breakfast that sat on it to heat to the temperature it was at just after it was taken out of the pan. His uncle took a step back in fear, than seemed to think for a second, before a smile accumulated onto his face.

"HA! You foolish boy! Now you'll never get to go back to that God-damned school of yours.", He spoke softly, quickly, and dangerously to Harry, thinking he had won the battle. He suddenly burst out laughing at Harry, saying through his laughs rather loudly "Now you won't be able to use that DANMED MAGIC OF YOURS!" However, he soon stopped.

Harry had stood there eyeing Vernon with one eyebrow cocked for a second, before giving a laugh of his own. Now it was his uncles turn to eye him suspiciously.

"You really think I'm that stupid, don't you? You really think that I would use detectable _Magic _outside of _Hogwarts_?" Harry asked, emphasizing two of the words he knew his uncle hated most of all. Then he decided to show his uncle that he could use as much magic as he wanted.

"_Producto valde tepidus a spiritus lucis_" He said, extending his arms to either side of himself, and thinking in his mind about the boundaries of room they were in. Spontaneous warmth overcame the room, and a white light extended from Harry's body, blinding Vernon, who yelped and tripped over a chair, to land sitting in its seat. When both the light and the heat faded, Harry was no longer there.

*******************************

He walked along the sidewalk, cherishing the warm, morning sunlight that bathed him. He enjoyed taking walks like this, with nothing to yell at him, or tell him he wasn't good enough, or asking him for his autograph. He was content to simply walk along, and lose himself in the beautiful sunrise. He looked up at the beautiful reds and yellows that blended together with a deep orange. In that orange there was a certain figure that Harry saw, and he stopped walking, trying to focus on the figure. As it got clearer and clearer, he noticed different things about it. It was a human, a female human, a female human with bushy hair and…

'Wait a minute! Isn't that-" He never got to finish that thought, however, as he heard someone calling his name. Turning his head, he got a shock.

"Harry!" It was the bushy-haired person he had seen in the sunrise.

"Hey Hermione!" Harry shouted when he saw who it was. 'Wow', he thought as he looked at her. She had obviously been hiding how mature she was in the school clothes, and she seemed to have grown far prettier over the summer, and he noticed how tan she was. 'Can someone really change that much in a month?' He thought to himself, not knowing that the girl that was running towards him was thinking the same thing. He had forgotten to grab a t-shirt before leaving the house.

They met in a hug, Hermione feeling how strong his abs were, then they broke apart, both blushing slightly. Harry noticed that he was taller then her by much more than he had been the year before. He felt as though he were a giant, as he had to look down to see her.

"What are you doing here?" She asked him, as he was about to do the same. "You're probably the last person I would expect to meet here."

"I was just taking a walk and admiring the sunset. What about you?"

"I live here. Just that house over there, in fact." She said, pointing to a house, "I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to take a walk as well. I didn't know you lived so near-by!" 

"Yeah, nor did I. There's something I want to show you, but I can't out here in the street… Do you think we could go into your house?" Harry asked, thinking about how he would show her the new sorts of magic he had learned.

"Yes, of course. Lets go." She said, her bossy characteristic kicking in and making Harry smile when she was turned away.

Once they had entered the house, they headed to Hermione's room, which she brought him to after showing him all the other rooms in the house (except for her parents room, as they were asleep) and telling Harry how her summer had gone. Harry closed the door behind them but kept his hand on the door.

"Do you promise not to get mad?" He asked, after which she nodded impatiently, crossing her arms, anxious to see whatever it was that he wanted to show her that was so important that they had to come to her house right away. Seeing her approval, he began to do what he had planned to do.

"_Termino_" He said, his hand still on the door. However, what happened wasn't what he had been expecting.

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A/N: thanks again to the two reviewers that have reviewed, and I hope you all liked this chapter… tell me where this should go… and I don't mean ship-wise… plot-wise, my dear (and fellow) readers. Speaking of which, I wish I could do an Irish jig… * suddenly gets up and does an Irish jig * It's a MIRACLE!!! I LOVE … … … … … ummm, neverminditdontreallymatterheeheenotfunnyreviewplzha. Ummmmmmmm, yeah. Time for my medication, again!

PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME HOW TO DO BETTER AND WRITE BETTER OR WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT AND WHY OR WTHER YOU LIKE DOING IRISH JIGS AND STUFF OR PREFER TO DANCE THE MONKEY DANCE THAT ONLY I KNOW HOW TO DO BECAUSE I AM THE ONLY PART-MONKEY THAT I KNOW BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW ANYONE BUT MYSELF HAHAHA THAT WASN'T FUNNY, HUH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW 

Aaaah… the art of subliminal messaging *wipes a tear from eye * can't get much more beautiful than that, can you?… * bursts out crying * so emotional!


	3. Author's Note

This fic is to be discontinued, due to the progression of time, the release of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, and the author's new sentiments towards the level of complexity inherent in the novels. I apologize to any who enjoyed what little of it there was, and hope to pick up the pen again (so to speak) soon.


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